


everyone wants a bit of cookie

by mdnssrtrn



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Anal Plug, Angst and Porn, Blindfolds, F/M, Face Slapping, Feels, Gangbang, Hair-pulling, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Smut, Strap-Ons, Wordcount: 500-1.000, bottom!jamie, jamie getting fuck over the years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 03:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18932173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdnssrtrn/pseuds/mdnssrtrn
Summary: everyone has their turns.





	1. 2007

**Author's Note:**

> jamie cook, ever look at his face and imagine doing things to him? ever wonder what he'd be on his knees, all submissive? his red cheeks, cover with tears? Or ever fantasies him getting fucked?
> 
> well i do, and there's so little of bottom jamie fic, so I decided, why not write one hehe

1.1

I think I was a bit tipsy, or I was completely drunk, I don't even know.  
we were out at some dingy bar celebrating.  
It was my eighth glass, Matt was shouting, Alex was laughing and Nick was shotgunning when the tech guy I kind of recognized slid into the booth beside me, hand on my thigh.

  
"some kind of party this is" he said "wanna get some air?" he asked again, even closer  
I don't know why but with the last swig of my drink, I nodded

Maybe it's because I really need some air or it's the margaritas, my legs were shaking when he pushed me down. Suddenly, I was already on my knees  
I looked up, my back was against the wall, but the streetlight didn't help make my vision any clearer. Just a backlit figure towering me.

I can hear the zipper and the familiar shutter sounds.  
I can feel my polo's collar getting soaked, but I'm not sure if it was the drink I spilled or my tears slipping

 

1.2

The day after there's this salty aftertaste I couldn't put my finger on what it was.  
I was hungover and my head is killing me, lucky that we got a day off from doing gig, I can't wait to rest my eyes.

I was taking a nap when I heard the knocking, looking at the clock, it has been 4 hours since I passed out.  
There was a knock again, even louder this time, and another several beat followed. How impatient.

I reached for the knob and open the door.  
There's the same tech guy from my last night blurry memory, but this time there were 2 other roadies with him.

My eyebrows knotted and raised, I asked what are they doing here.  
Instead of answering, they're saying nothing, just grinned and chuckled among themselves with the knowing looks

"You can't remember last night?" the tech guy asked in which I said no, we were getting some air. They laughed again and invite themselves into my room, before I can even protest when he cuts me off.  
"Perhaps, this will help you remember"

And as if the scene was replaying,  
I'm on my knees with the phone right in front of my face, my eyes widened and I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. I was sucking him off, on the streets, this explains the shutter sounds

What you want me to do? I asked, they shrugged.  
"We can use some _releasing_ " one of them said.

And, oh, this taste familiar.

 

1.3

We were back on the road again.

I launched myself on the seat next to driver, saying that I was annoyed by all the talking in the back and need some sleep.  
That was a lie.

Our driver start the van, the same time as I lower my head down.  
"I heard you're good at it" he said, over the roaring engine which help drown my gagging.

We made a stop at some gas station, I got off the van to stretch after an hour of bending over.  
Alex approached me, pointing at my chin, asking "what's that?"  
But before I can reply, the driver's voice came shouting from the back

"He was a real _messy_ sleeper"


	2. 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jamie grow his hair.

2.1

I grow a beard, as a defense mechanism I guess. People don't want to fuck some bearded dude.

Come out I was totally wrong, fucking seem to be their basic instinct and I am the only who they know was free to used and abused

shut up, obey and stay still, they said.  


or we'll give that pictures to the press, your girlfriend sure not gonna like that, they threatened

And so I submitted, not like if I have a choice with me face down on another hotel's mattress, a pillow pressing down, cover my head, cutting my breath.  
I gasped and heaved, my hands clutching to the bed cover as my last resort and some solace I found, in the middle of brutal thrusting.

Then, there's a hand around my neck. My voice croaked.  
I thought, thanks _God_ , at least I don't have to hear myself sobbing.

 

2.2

I shaved my beard off, but keep my hair the way it was.

They said they like my hair like this, long. Because it's easy to grip and pull. I know they loved it as I can feel them go even harder, harsher, rougher as soon as they had their hands on my hair.

They were neck deep, balls deep, whatever deep, so deep, _too_ deep. Everytime, they hit the back of my neck, the bundle of nerves inside.  
I tried to scream, but only sound that coming were all muffled, wet and choked.

It was when I finished with the tour manager, I opened the door of the toilet stall and met with pair of curious eyes, Alex was there.

"So it is true then" he said, I asked him what's true.  
He didn't respond, just grabbed my hair, bear my neck and so he bite and bite, lower and lower.

And so I submit and submit, all bruised up.  
I felt the wetness on my cheeks, but I don't know if it was me or Alex who done it.

 

2.3 

Alex knew, all the band knew.  
They didn't say a word but I knew.

The gaze that lingered, the unnecessary touch, the implying jokes and the non-existent personal space. To say they're already fucking me would not be an exaggeration.

We were at the soundcheck and Alex was so close. I tried to pretend I'm busy with the pedals but he still inching in, his chin almost resting on my shoulder and his breath touched my neck where the blotches he marked still healing.

"Come to my room tonight" he whispered a promise that I know I can't break.  
There's a dead silence and at once all eyes are on me, I could feel a glare boring a hole in the back of my neck from where the drums kit were and a low humming from the far right when I nodded to what Alex has said.

I don't want the night to fall.

We were just back to our hotel from the arcade, they were laughing and talking, they're about to get their treat while I was hesitating in front of the bathroom, should I shower now despite knowing damn well I would get all _dirty_ again.

I washed myself anyway, my hair still damped.  
I knocked, Alex's room number stare back at me, "the door isn't locked" I heard he says. I opened the door and was welcome with the rest of the band.  
All I do was broke the eye contact and letting myself in.

There was a ripping, my clothes got tossed somewhere on the floor.  
Katie would be mad, that shirt was for my birthday.

I sighed, thinking, what have I become.

 


End file.
